


Giving In

by pelespen



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: F/M, Het, SWS
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-16
Updated: 2010-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:33:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pelespen/pseuds/pelespen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <div class="center">
<img/><br/><i>She was his godson's best friend, taken, too young, too pure. And yet he couldn't make himself not want her. He wasn't sure how much longer he could resist.</i>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> _Another smutty little Hermione/Sirius story, written for the FQF Challenge at Granger Enchanted._
> 
> Many thanks to calistokerrigan for the banner!

Moonlight filtered in to the darkened room, painting a silvery tapestry of abstract patterns across the white ruffled bedspread and canopy, illuminating the virginal figure laid out like a fairy tale princess.

Silently, he crept closer, his gaze traveling from the steady rise and fall of her perfect breasts, over the flawless exposed skin of collarbones, shoulders, and neck to her beautiful face. Her lips were slightly parted in that unintentional pout that was somehow incredibly innocent and hopelessly sexy at the same time. Her untamed chestnut curls were spread haphazardly over the pillow. A tiny crease pulled her brows together, and he froze as the indecent lashes shadowing her cheeks fluttered open.

"Sirius?" she asked softly, her voice sleepy and confused, but not afraid. So much trust from someone for whom he had such impure designs...

He made to leave, hoping she would forget ever seeing him there, but she sat up, her chocolate brown eyes clearing as she became more conscious. "Wait - " she whispered, and held out her hand.

_Silly, naïve little fool._ She had no idea why he was there, what kind of fire she was playing with. Or did she? He cautioned a glance to her face and found something there in her eyes, something less innocent.

"Please," she added, licking her lips nervously.

"Hermione," he rasped in a warning tone, shaking his head slightly. He knew it was wrong, he had no business there –

"I know why you're here," she said quietly, but the words tumbled out quickly, almost fervently. "Please, don't leave…"

Against his better judgment, his feet led him to her bedside, to her outstretched hand. Looking down at her, he watched as her eyes trailed from his face, down his bare chest, to his silk pajama bottoms that were still unbearably tented. Even in the dim light, he could make out the flush that painted her cheeks, and he couldn't quite fight back the pleased smirk that pulled at his face. _Merlin, how he loved it when she blushed._ The fact that it was _him_ making her blush this time sent a jolt of pleasure through him.

When he reached her bed, she scooted herself over and pulled down the covers. Her expression was a guarded invitation, as if she were afraid he'd say "no." And he would have, but for the sudden glimpse of long, slender, bare legs, barely covered by the hem of her skimpy little nightdress.

He couldn't recall actually climbing into the bed, or removing their clothes, but suddenly they were a feverish mess of lips and heat and breaths and moans, and _dear gods_ her mouth was on his cock one moment, and the next moment she was under him, face flushed and legs wrapped around him, panting desperately, wriggling against him as he paused just outside of her slick wet heat. He leaned in to taste her gorgeous lips again, closing his eyes as he pushed into her tightness…

With a harsh gasp, Sirius awoke, cursing out loud into the darkness. His bedclothes were kicked away and twisted into an impossible mass at his feet. Yet, despite the coolness of the night air on his naked, exposed body, his cock was still painfully erect. His hand immediately went to work, finishing off the betraying gut-deep pleasure his recurring dream had inflicted.

As he worked his fist over his hardness in rapid, twisting strokes, he closed his eyes, wallowing in the flood of dream-like images: Hermione's virginal lips wrapped around his dick, her tongue laving the very tip, her moans vibrating around his shaft as she fucked him with her mouth… Hermione spread out on his bed, her curls fanned out on his pillow as her head tossed from side to side in ecstasy while he fucked her senseless… Hermione with her back curled against his chest, her head resting on his arm and her hands curled under her chin the way he'd seen them the night she'd fallen asleep on the couch in the library… Hermione moving needily against him, his cock nestled against her backside until he flipped her over and took her from behind, causing her to scream and cry out his name in pleasure…

"Fuck… little… witch…" Sirius panted and gritted out between his teeth as he spilled his seed over his hand. After a moment of catching his breath, he quickly cleaned up his mess and dragged himself out of bed, scooping up the pair of jeans that lay discarded on his bedroom floor.

After buttoning his fly, he dug into his pockets for the soft pack of fags and padded out onto the small balcony of his bedroom. The silver metal Muggle lighter that had been a gift from Lily Evans so many years ago made its comforting and familiar _ching_ as he flipped it open and lit a cigarette, savouring the first noxious drag of tobacco and butane.

Exhaling, Sirius gazed up at the full moon and indulged in the stream of bitterness that he usually kept safely tamped down.

There was a time when he'd be out running wild with Moony over the hills and through forests on a night like tonight, but those days were long passed. Remus was a father now, and with new advances in potions, he was able to stave off a complete transformation at the full moon. Sirius could hardly begrudge his old friend. He truly was happy for him – it was a freedom the werewolf had never been afforded in his whole life.

All the same, however, it was one more thing gone from Sirius' younger years, one more reminder of his losses, one more aspect of his life that didn't seem to fit in anywhere anymore. While his years stuck behind that bloody drapery had granted him a type of stasis while time passed without him, he was still, would always _be_, part of a generation that was now considered the 'old' ones. Harry, Ron, Hermione – while they were no longer in school, they were all still in the blossom of their youth. And Sirius was neither part of their generation, nor part of what was left of his own – all parents and responsible higher-up figures now.

Normally it didn't bother him – with his family's fortune, he'd never have to work, but if he wanted to, he could have his choice of any number of professions. And it wasn't as though Harry and the others hadn't welcomed him in with open arms. It had taken only a small amount of adjusting before going out for drinks with the group of young adults was a perfectly normal and regular tradition.

Sirius supposed, truth be told, the only thing that made him feel at all out of his age bracket was _her_.

He had long since given up asking himself 'why her?', mostly because the list of Hermione Granger's finer points grew so long in his head that he sounded to himself like a lovesick idiot. And the intelligent, gorgeous, young brunette's countless desirable assets would never erase the handful of reasons why she was completely and inarguably _off limits_.

It wasn't as if he needed reminding, but it became an unhappy mantra nonetheless: _She's your godson's best friend. She's taken. She's too young, too pure._ And yet he couldn't make himself not want her.

In the years he'd been away, they'd all grown so much. Harry looked even more like his father, and what was left of the Weasley 'kids' was now a ginger-headed group of well-muscled men, excepting Percy and Ginny. Hermione however, had been the one in their group to truly blossom. Not that she was ever ugly, but she was always the bookish swot who cared more about marks and knowledge than hairstyles and makeup.

Now, though, she was all curls and curves, and her swottiness had evolved into a wit and confidence that made him want to have sex with her mind almost as much as her body. And yet – she was so far out of his reach, he felt like a lecherous old pervert for even thinking it. He'd memorized every exposed centimeter of perfect, unwrinkled, youthful skin, and had imagined the rest so many times he could almost feel it under his fingers at will. He knew her scent from a mile away, and now, thanks to Ronald Weasley's running mouth, Sirius was quite certain that Hermione was still a virgin.

In all fairness, it wasn't as though Ron had just been randomly blathering – in a stroke of painful irony, he had actually confided in Sirius that, despite the fact that they'd been dating for almost a year, he had not gotten very far with the girl at all. Sirius' jaw and teeth had ached for the remainder of the day after Ron had asked him for any pointers on how to 'move things along' in his relationship with Hermione.

He wasn't even sure just what advice he'd offered the redheaded git, as he'd been too focused on fighting back the violent wave of jealousy and malice he'd suddenly felt for the younger wizard. It was by Circe's divine grace that Remus had floo'ed in not long after Ron had asked for Sirius' help, effectively closing the topic for discussion. No surprise there, either – despite his being 'out of commission' for nearly two decades, Sirius was still regarded by the group as the resident expert on women. Apparently Remus was considered to be too responsible and 'good' to give advice on how to bed a young witch.

With a miserable sneer, Sirius ground out his cigarette against the iron railing and sighed. Merlin knew he could have used a good run tonight - anything to burn off this ever-growing obsession. In the past month or so he'd given up even bothering with other witches. They were only interested in his fame and money, and ultimately only served to remind him of who they _weren't_.

"Fool," he muttered unhappily to himself through the filter of another cigarette. She was probably tucked into bed with the Weasley boy even now, and here he was pining over the unattainable beneath the full moon. Tomorrow he would make a more concentrated effort of wiping the brainy little witch from his head.

~O~

Fury gave way to remorse, then panic, as Hermione realized what she had done. She sank onto her bed, dropping her head into her hands. _They would all hate her._ She'd never be able to face the Weasleys again, and Harry was going to be so disappointed in her. Their lovely little trio was irreparably broken, and it was her fault.

She was such a coward. She'd hung on for so much longer than she ever should have, despite her feelings. And why? Because she knew this was how it would end, and she was too scared to face it. She never should have gotten involved with Ron to begin with – even when she was struggling with her jealousy over Lavender Brown, a tiny part of her knew it was less about her feelings than it was about her ego.

She was never in love with him. Hell, she never even fancied him as much as she had Viktor, and Viktor was nothing more than a fly by night teenage romance. And now – now she'd made this incredible mess.

Had things been ever so slightly different, she probably could have gone on with her little act indefinitely, and that thought disturbed her greatly. Laying down on her side to face the large window looking out over High Street, she curled herself up as the tears started to come - tears of remorse and worry, but also tears of frustration.

_I suppose I should be grateful to the arrogant prat_, Hermione thought with a small, bitter laugh. Had Sirius Black not returned when he did, she may very well have continued slipping down her path of complacency where Ron was concerned, all the way to marriage and beyond. She gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. She'd very nearly had herself convinced that this was just how relationships were – a comfortable companionship, peppered with little arguments and 'sweet' kisses, that the scorching passion and need she read about in romance novels was just that – fictional romance.

_But no. _

He had to come along, with his mercury coloured eyes and raven black hair, his confident smirks and sexy grins, his keen intelligence and surprisingly witty sense of humour… _Why, oh why couldn't she have picked someone a little more attainable than Sirius Black to fancy?_

She could have just written it off as a silly crush, but every time she was near him, there was an undeniable chemistry, a sort of electricity that bounced between them… She'd call it insanity, or at least delusional optimism, but she'd caught his eye too many times to write it off as a figment of her imagination. Looks that were a little more intense than normal, casual brushes and physical contact that lingered just a fraction longer than they probably should, and then of course they would both compensate by swinging in the opposite direction, sniping at each other over the stupidest little things until they both had to be admonished like two young children… They'd been doing this dance for months now, and she'd picked it apart and analyzed it and put it back together again so many times, yet she just could not manage to stop herself from participating.

Hermione gave an unhappy huff. There was nothing to do about it, of course. If she thought people were going to hate her for dumping Ronald Weasley, she was certain there'd be a lynch mob if it ever got out that she had eyes for her best friend's godfather.

A glance at the little brass clock on her bedside table told her it was far too late to call on Harry. She'd just have to break the news to him first thing in the morning, then.

~O~

Sirius had just stepped out of the shower and was pulling on a fresh pair of jeans when the wards on the home he now shared with Harry alerted him to a visitor. Flicking his damp hair out of his eyes, he trotted, open-shirted and barefoot, down the stairs and came to a sudden stop two steps from the bottom. There, in the hallway just outside the modern living room of his home, stood the very cause of his lack of sleep, staring speechless at him from whiskey-coloured eyes.

"Hermione," he said with a forced calm. "What brings you by this lovely morning?"

He couldn't help it – his eyes drank her in like an alcoholic to booze. It had been at least a week and a half. She'd been avoiding him, he knew. She looked… distressed was an understatement. And yet, she was still beautiful in her simple blue sundress and casual sandals, her hair pulled up into a loose chignon that was already failing.

She blinked several times and opened her mouth wordlessly before she finally managed, "Is Harry here?"

He frowned at the waver in her voice. She really was upset, and he felt an immediate surge of protection for the young witch. "No," he answered as he stepped off the bottom stair and gently took her elbow, guiding her to the kitchen. "He went out with Ron about an hour ago."

"Oh…" Hermione warbled unhappily and sank into a chair in the sun-filled room, dropping her head immediately to the table.

"I'm sure he'll be back later, love," he said in a blind attempt to comfort her. "How about some coffee in the meantime?" he offered, knowing she really preferred it over tea, but was usually too picky about how others made the black brew to take it from just anyone. He smirked derisively at himself for the idiotic little twinge of pleasure he felt at knowing she liked _his_ coffee the best.

After a rather pathetic sniffle, a muffled, "Yes, please," came from the enclosure of her arms.

The kitchen remained quiet except for Sirius' soft humming, the subtle sound of coffee percolating, and the delicate clink of spoons and cups. Finally he set their mugs down on the small round table and sat across from the distraught witch.

"Now," he said as he spooned the right amount of sugar into each of their drinks. "Do you want to tell me what's wrong?" he asked gently.

Slowly she met his gaze as his heart gave a hard tug at the worry he saw in her brown pools. "I – I broke up with Ron," she whispered, her cheeks turning pink as she quickly looked down at her coffee.

For a moment he was certain he had heard wrong as his brain tried to process her words. "I'm sorry – what?" he asked.

Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled shakily. Shaking her head slightly but not meeting his gaze, she repeated her words.

The mantra that Sirius had been chanting on repeat for months came to a violent halt, like a skipping record stopped by the sudden drag of needle across vinyl. The silence stretched as he tried to regroup his thoughts. _Say something, you stupid arse,_ he mentally chided himself.

Seeing her tear-filled eyes, he followed instinct and took her hands from around the steaming mug, holding them in his. "Are you alright?" he asked, wary of the reason for her tears.

He felt a wave of sympathy as her lower lip trembled and she shook her head again. "They're all going to hate me," she whispered, closing her eyes and causing the pools to overflow into two slow wet trails over her cheeks.

"No they're not, love," Sirius crooned, wiping her tears with a thumb. "Alright, Molly might, but she'll have to get over it. They all will. Who could possibly hate you, Hermione?"

She opened her eyes with a frown and released his hand, noisily scooting her chair back from the table and standing. "Everyone I really care about is either related to Ron or as good as, excepting you," she said, and went over to the sink to look out the window. "Harry was always worried this would happen, and now it has and I've gone and ruined everything."

"Why?" he asked, remaining seated. The question left his lips without thought. It wasn't the best thing he could have said, but he needed to hear the answer.

"Well, I don't love him," Hermione answered as if it were obvious. "I had no business ever dating him to begin with, and I should have said something sooner, but I – well, I suppose I was scared."

"Scared?" Sirius asked.

Nodding but still facing away from him, she continued talking to the window as if sorting through her thoughts out loud. "Scared of this very thing – of losing my two best friends, of tearing apart the so-called 'Golden Trio' and alienating everyone I love and incurring the wrath of media and Quidditch fans alike... I – I suppose I also thought, you know… sometimes people grow to love each other. And I do love Ron… but I'm not _in_ love with him."

She paused to swipe at her cheeks. "I don't think I was _ever_ in love with him, really," she added miserably. "I don't know how much I even truly fancied him - I certainly never felt as much for him along those lines as I did for Viktor, much less for - " she stopped herself with a sharp little inhale, as if realizing she'd almost slipped up and said something she shouldn't have.

Sirius felt his chest tighten. He wasn't blind - in a state of vehement denial perhaps, but not blind. He knew there was something not entirely one-sided between Hermione and himself, and suddenly he felt as though she held the one last card poised for a swaying, tilting card house.

"For whom, Hermione?" he asked quietly, standing and walking over to stand behind her at the sink.

When she didn't respond, he cupped her shoulders and turned her around to face him. Her head was bowed, eyes closed, and her brows were knitted into a frown. He crooked a finger under her chin and said, "Hermione, look at me."

She did as asked, hesitantly, as if afraid of what she might see. Still, despite all of the confusion and worry he saw in her expression, Sirius felt dangerously close to drowning in those chocolate depths. He tore his eyes away, but only to find himself suddenly fascinated by her mouth. _Merlin, those lips…_ he thought hungrily. When he finally met her gaze again, her eyes had changed, darkened to coffee, her pupils slightly dilated and reflecting back to him every bit of need he was feeling.

"Who?" he repeated softly as he stepped closer to her, already knowing the answer. All she had to do was say it…

His thumb tenderly stroked the soft indentation just below her bottom lip, and he noticed with a deep sense of pleasure that her breathing had become uneven. Her kitten-like tongue darted out to moisten those lovely pink petals and a silent growl rumbled through him.

Finally, soft as a breeze, not even a whisper, she gave the answer that would break loose the tightly bound want he'd been holding back for months, "You."

~O~

Hermione's heart took off with the speed of a hummingbird as Sirius' hand slowly slipped around from her chin to her neck, his fingers destroying her hopeless chignon as he cradled her head.

The first touch of his lips sent a deep, slow wave of pleasure through her, not unlike her first glass of champagne at her cousin's wedding. He was gentle at first, exploratory and almost tentative, but she wanted so much more. Pressing against him slightly, she returned his kiss and parted her lips to him in invitation.

With a low growl, he pulled her closer, snaking his arm around her waist as he deepened their kiss. Hermione felt a soft whimper escape her, and her knees suddenly felt weak as Sirius' tongue danced slowly against hers. She slid her hands over his chest, still bare from his open shirt. _Gods, how she'd wanted to touch him for so long._ He was so solid, so masculine and _real_, and her fingers could not seem to get enough of his warm, muscled body.

A quiet groan purred from his throat and against her lips as she eagerly explored his torso. The sound filled Hermione with a liquid warmth that slid down her spine and pooled in her abdomen, because _she_ had caused it. That he evidently wanted her as much as she did him worked on her psyche and her body like a heady aphrodisiac.

As if to confirm this thought, Sirius pushed her against the kitchen counter, his hands sliding down her back and squeezing gently at her hips as he broke from their kiss.

"Fuck, Hermione," he whispered raggedly against her jaw, administering perfect little nips along the sensitive skin of her neck. "Gods, you feel so perfect in my arms… taste so damned good… I've wanted you for so fucking long, little witch…" he murmured desperately between kisses and nuzzles as he trailed a path to her ear.

Her eyes fluttered shut helplessly and she could only cradle his head to her as it dipped lower, her breath quickening as his mouth traveled back down her neck to her shoulder, then her collarbone. Her fingers tangled their way into his damp black hair as he pressed himself against her, letting her feel his hardness. With little effort, he lifted her bottom up onto the edge of the counter, his hands urging her thighs around his hips before skimming feverishly up her waist and around her back.

The hem of her sundress bunched itself up over her legs as they wrapped their bodies around each other. Hermione moaned as Sirius found her lips again, twisting her hair around his hand and holding her to him possessively. He was pressed so intimately between her thighs, the hard denim seam and zipper rasping against the flimsy damp fabric of her knickers, his erection teasing and torturing her as they moved against each other.

Her hands slid hungrily over his shoulders, attempting to push his open shirt out of her way. A small involuntary pleading sound from her lips caused Sirius to break away just long enough to help her divest him of the garment before he attacked her again with a fierce growl.

Her breath came in hard little pants as he pushed her dress further up her thighs now, his strong callused fingers caressing the soft flesh, trailing closer and closer to her heat.

"Merlin, sweet girl – I can smell you… so good," Sirius rasped as he broke their kiss, his lips and teeth now nibbling down the column of her neck as her head fell back with a sigh. His other hand was tracing its way over her shoulder, pushing the strap of her dress away, fingers dancing down her arm to her waist and back up again, whispering across the outline of a breast.

Hermione gasped at the exquisite touch, wanting so much more. "Please, Sirius," she whined softly as his fingers explored further, one hand coaxing the soft thin material over her shoulder to expose more skin to his lips while the other – the other teased its way softly along her inner thigh.

_This_ was why she had turned down Ron countless times, which had ultimately led to the final end of their relationship. In the course of mere minutes Sirius had lit a fire in her that Ronald had never been able to even spark in their year together. She knew it was wrong, she knew she should be ashamed of herself for spreading her legs so wantonly for him at the drop of a hat, but, _oh heavens and Circe_, he felt so good, so _right_.

Their frantic breaths and heated sounds filled the kitchen as they explored each other. Her fingers played and scratched over his naked torso, grazing his nipples and eliciting a rough groan, and suddenly his fingers were _there_, and with a feral snarl lace was torn and tossed away.

Her sharp intake of breath was lost in a hard, demanding kiss that she met with equal passion, their tongues almost fighting each other until his knuckles traced the outer folds of her aching pussy.

The sudden slam of the front door made them both jump.

"Sirius?" Harry called from the front hallway.

They both swore in frantic whispers and Sirius jumped away from her as if burned. Hermione stumbled with a clatter of her heeled sandals against the tile floor as she hopped off the counter, but was immediately steadied by two warm, strong hands at her waist as he helped smoothed down the fabric of her skirt. She quickly righted her dress strap and attempted to straighten the mess that had become of her hair as Sirius bent down to pick up his discarded shirt and the ruined pair of lace knickers.

He looked up at her with an expression that matched her own: panic and apology as well as a question of, 'what the fuck do we do now?'.

Her eyes flicked to the undergarment clutched in his hand and she felt herself blushing brightly. As Harry's steps grew louder, she thought quickly.

"Oh, THAT's lovely, Sirius," she said in a loud, derisive tone. "Rude _and_ unsanitary. Does he know you're shagging witches in his kitchen now?"

Taking her cue, Sirius snapped back, "As if you'd know anything about shagging anyone. Always the bloody prude, aren't you?"

"Better a prude than a – a… well I bet you don't even know her name!"

"It's none of your business, Hermione!"

"It is when you leave wasted knickers laying around the kitchen!"

"It's MY kitchen!"

"That – that's beside the point, it's gross!"

"Yeah, well no wonder Ron - "

"What the bloody hell is wrong with you two now?" Harry interrupted angrily from the doorway of the kitchen.

"Harry!" Sirius and Hermione both said in unison.

"Can't you two ever be left alone together without it ending in a yelling match?" he said wearily.

As he flopped into one of the kitchen chairs, they quickly glanced at each other. Sirius' grey eyes were soft and full of apology, and Hermione wondered vaguely just what he'd been about to say about Ron.

"Sorry, Harry," she said contritely, while Sirius hummed a sort of agreement.

"Hermione," Harry said as he turned to her. "Are you alright?"

Dread seeped into her stomach as she remembered just why she was there in the first place.

"Is _she_ alright?" Sirius barked indignantly. "What about me? I'm the one being scolded for what I do in my own home, here!"

"Sirius, just leave us, will you?" Harry snapped irritably. "This isn't about whatever…_ utterly_ mental argument you two are having this time."

"Fine!" He swung his shirt over his shoulder and paid Hermione a secretive wink and a tender half-smile on his way out of the kitchen. She couldn't help the ridiculous flutter in her chest, but was distracted as Harry sighed and rose from his seat at the table.

"You'll have to go apologize to him, you know. It _is_ his house too, after all."

A blush painted Hermione's cheeks for all the wrong reasons. "Alright," she replied softly.

"But before that, I understand you and Ron had a fight last night," he said cautiously.

_A 'fight'?_ Hermione thought with annoyance. She shook her head. "No, Harry, we broke up," she clarified.

"These things happen in relationships, Hermione," he continued while pouring himself a cup of coffee and returning to the table as if he hadn't even heard her. "I mean yeah, you two have always had your differences and little arguments, but it's perfectly normal to have - "

"Harry," Hermione interrupted. "It wasn't just a fight. We broke up. _I_ broke up with _him_. It's over." Her previous dread for the topic was quickly being replaced with irritation as she saw where this was potentially headed. If they weren't going to hate her over her breakup with Ron, it would be because they were in denial of it.

Of course, it certainly didn't hurt that one particularly devastatingly handsome older wizard had just sealed the deal on her feelings for the whole matter.

Harry shook his head. "But - "

"No 'buts', Harry," she interrupted again, seeing that he wasn't getting it. Her tone softened, however, as she said, "Look, I'm sorry. I know everyone is going to be fiercely angry with me about it, but this really isn't just a fight. It's over."

She watched him, waiting with baited breath for the storm to hit. Instead, all he said was, "Why?"

_'Because I think I'm in love with your godfather'_ was not something Hermione was prepared to say at that moment, but a better explanation wouldn't come.

When she hesitated, he asked, "Did Ron say or do something stupid? Because when I asked him what you two were fighting over he wouldn't say…"

Hermione gave a heavy sigh. "We weren't fighting, Harry. It's just… I – I've come to realize that while I love Ron, I'm not _in_ love with him." She shook her head sadly. "I don't think I ever really was."

"But you two have been together for so long, you've had a thing for him since Hogwarts – how can you say you're not in love with him?" Harry frowned suddenly, and his voice dropped in suspicion. "Is there someone else?"

Cursing the warmth that flared in her cheeks, she answered, "Not exactly." Then, realizing that she'd just opened Pandora's Box just a crack, she took a deep breath and sat down next to her friend, whose frown had deepened with eyes full of accusation. "Harry, I haven't cheated on Ron, I haven't even considered it. And for all I know, there isn't really someone else, isn't going to _be_ 'someone else', even now. But there is someone I've had… feelings for, enough to make me realize that I _don't_ have those feelings for Ron, never did. And it's not fair to him to keep holding on to our relationship when he deserves more than that."

Hermione rolled her eyes inwardly at the pathetic cliché, even if it was true.

Harry didn't speak, but averted his eyes to the tabletop, his brows still knitted in a frown. After a long, painful moment of silence, Hermione stood, her vision blurred with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she said thickly. "It was my foolishness to begin with – I never should have pursued Ron, and I certainly never should have dragged it out this long. I know this ruins everything, but I hope one day you'll understand how much worse it would have been."

As she turned on her heel to leave, Harry interrupted her. "Don't be so melodramatic, Hermione."

When she turned back to him questioningly, he continued with a smirk, "Yeah, you're right – everyone's going to be good and pissed off at you for a while. But you've not 'ruined everything'. Not everyone marries their school sweetheart."

With a little smile, he stood and wrapped his arms around his friend. "We'll always be friends, Hermione, yeah?"

Hermione gave a little sob and nodded against him.

Harry pulled away and shook his head with amusement at her tears. "You'd think you were the one who'd been dumped," he muttered. "Look, I'm not going to take sides but you know I'm going to have to be there for Ron. He's my best mate. And whoever this other wizard is, you'd do best to just keep quiet about it for as long as possible, at least until everyone calms down, right? I mean, unless you _want_ Mrs. Weasley to come after you…"

Hermione gave a bitter laugh. "Really, Harry – there's nothing…"

He held up a hand. "I don't need to know. Just – you're going to have to give on this one, alright?"

She nodded in fervent agreement.

"Now," Harry said with a nod to the kitchen door. "You owe Sirius an apology. Shagging strange witches in our kitchen might be gross, but that really is between him and me. You really should try to lighten up on him, Hermione. You two are always fighting. It might even do you some good to try and be friends with him – he's probably the only one who won't give a rat's arse that you broke up with Ron."

"Right," Hermione said weakly, and exited the kitchen before Harry could see the scarlet hue of her cheeks.

~O~

Sirius lay on his back, his fingers laced behind his neck as he stared pensively up at the ceiling. He wondered what Hermione was telling Harry – certainly she wouldn't tell him about _them_ just yet. Of course, there really _wasn't_ a 'them' yet, was there? His lips twisted unhappily at the thought.

'Yet', though? – For so long, he'd staunchly refused to entertain the thought of following his heart's desires where Hermione Granger was concerned. _She's your godson's best friend. She's taken. She's too young, too pure…_

Only now – now she _wasn't_ 'taken', and at twenty years of age, _was_ she 'too young'? After her reaction to him in those precious minutes in the kitchen, he was even starting to wonder about the 'pure' part of his argument. He'd been so bloody chaste with her these past months, so well-behaved because he had four solid reasons to be. With those reasons shrinking in front of his eyes like an ice cube in warm liquor, he wasn't sure how much longer he could resist, wasn't sure if he wanted to even try.

She was, however, still his godson's best friend.

Harry would undoubtedly be less than thrilled about their relationship, but would his disapproval be so great as to damage Sirius' relationship with him? With a derisive snort, Sirius stood. There was no 'relationship' with Hermione to cause tension with Harry anyway.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock on his bedroom door.

"Sirius?" Hermione called quietly from the hallway. "I – I came to apologize for what I said to you in the kitchen…"

Sirius frowned perplexedly then chuckled as he realized Harry must have sent her up there to make up with him. When he opened the door, Hermione gave him a smirk that confirmed his suspicions.

He quickly locked the door behind her and cast a silencing charm on it. His heart hammered with nervousness and excitement. He'd decided what he was going to say to her while she was downstairs talking to Harry, and now the time had come.

"Hermione," Sirius began carefully. "I don't want to give you the wrong impression…"

With dismay, he noticed that in that one short sentence, Hermione's whole demeanor and body language shifted. Her shoulders tensed and her back straightened as she gave a short, quiet huff and fidgeted with the material of her dress. "It's alright, Sirius," she said with a short brittle laugh, not looking directly at him. "I'm not a child, you know. It was nothing – didn't even happen, if that's what you want."

"-And I just gave you the wrong impression," Sirius muttered impatiently.

"I'll just go," Hermione said softly, turning to leave.

"No!" growled Sirius, grabbing her upper arms suddenly and pressing her against the door, their closeness forcing Hermione to look directly at him now.

When he was sure he had her attention, he said, "Hermione, I don't want to have 'just sex' with you. If all I wanted was an easy lay, there are a number of drinking establishments just a motorcycle ride away."

Her soft brown eyes were wary and confused and a small crease appeared between her brows. "I… don't – what do you mean?" she finally asked.

Sirius smirked. For someone so smart, she could be so clueless. "I mean," he said in a soft but determined tone, reaching up to cup her chin in his fingers, his thumb stroking her soft bottom lip. "I mean, I won't just be 'fucking' you, princess. If we do this, we _really_ do this. No pussyfooting around – you'll be mine, and I'll be yours. I mean no lying, no hiding, no more pretending. It means people might get hurt, and they're probably going to be angry." At her look of alarm, he added comfortingly, "I know it's a delicate situation right now, and believe it or not I can be discreet, for a while. But I will not be some twisted source of your guilt and shame, little girl. Understand?"

Her eyes were wide with shock. "You'd risk everything with Harry?" she whispered.

"I have no reason to believe there is a risk," he answered. Then, ever so softly, he brushed his lips across hers – just the promise of a taste, a soft quiet reminder. He smirked in satisfaction at the tiny catch of her breath, and almost imperceptible whimper when he moved away.

"I want you to go home now, and think on it. I want you to really consider what I'm saying, Hermione. When you've made up your mind, you know where to find me."

With that, he opened the door and sent her on her way.  


~O~


	2. Chapter 2

~O~

One week.

Seven days.

How could it possibly take an entire fucking week to come to any decision?

Sirius snarled and lit another cigarette as he paced the small balcony outside his bedroom.

He refused to believe her absence was any indication of her decision. He knew she wanted him physically – there was no question there. His keen dog-like senses could smell it on her any time they were within ten feet of each other. And she'd admitted she had feelings for him – she'd even told Harry that her feelings for 'someone' had been what prompted her to break up with Ron. So what was the problem? Sirius felt he'd made it perfectly clear that he wasn't interested in a casual fling with the witch. She'd wrapped him around her talented little finger ages ago. If she had feelings for him too, then why was it so difficult to come to this simple fucking decision?

Was it fear? Granted, he'd placed the ball firmly in her court, and he imagined it was probably more daunting for her to face the notion of mass disapproval than it was him – he was used to being shunned. Still, Hermione Granger was no coward – she was a bloody Gryffindor, for fuck's sake.

With a frustrated huff, he turned on his booted heel and grabbed his leather jacket from the back of a chair, striding across his bedroom to the door. He'd spent more time in the last week on his motorcycle than he had in the last month. Better that than brooding at home or in some bar where he'd be accosted by drunken middle-aged witches looking for all the wrong things, though.

When he reached the bottom of the staircase, he noticed Harry seated in the spacious living room, his broom and broomstick maintenance kit laid out across the coffee table. He grunted a passing greeting and waved, heading to the front door before his godson could start questioning his moody behaviour again.   
He'd spent the past week fielding Harry's questions and thoughts regarding his two best friends' breakup. At first it seemed like a brilliant opportunity to covertly plant a few seeds in his godson's head in defense of Hermione and her 'mystery wizard', but Sirius quickly grew too impatient to discuss the matter further. He really didn't care about Harry's theories on whether or not Ron was justified in his melodramatic drinking binges, or at which point Harry should have known something was wrong between his friends. With each day that passed, Sirius became increasingly surly at the mere mention of Hermione's name, until he decided to avoid conversations about the brunette witch altogether.

Sirius reached into his pocket for his sunglasses and slipped them on before opening the front door to the harsh light of mid-day. When the door swung open, however, he was startled by the feminine figure before him, poised to press the doorbell.

"Hermione," he said, hating how his voice sounded as tight as his chest felt. He was suddenly quite grateful for his sunglasses, as he did not want her to see the vulnerable questions that were probably lurking there. Instead, they afforded him the luxury of watching her more closely than usual.

It was another sundress today, this one a crisp black and white number with a neckline that made his mouth water. He took a deep satisfaction in seeing how she nervously licked her lips and swallowed as her eyes traveled up his tall frame. They stopped at his mouth, and he felt a twinge of frustration that the expression in those toffee coloured depths was absolutely unreadable.

"Hello, Sirius," Hermione said quietly. "Is Harry home?"

_That's it? 'Is Harry home?'?_ Sirius was speechless. His jaw clenched painfully as he stared at her for a moment, then opened the door further, permitting her access. As she passed close enough for him to breathe in every sweet note of her complex scent without actually touching, he bit back a painful groan. If this was how it was going to be, he wasn't sure if he could even be around the witch.

Once she was safely inside the small but nice two-story home he shared with Harry, Sirius stepped out onto the front stoop and closed the door behind him with a firm, resounding click. He took a deep shuddering breath and commended himself on not slamming the door with every ounce of brutal emotion and frustration he felt. After getting his bearings, he went around to the side of the house where his only escape awaited him in black and gleaming chrome.

~O~

When Sirius finally returned, the sun was starting its descent below the horizon. His feet clomped heavily up the front steps with the weight of resignation. He'd been so certain of Hermione's attraction to him, so sure that there was no real decision to make, simply an acceptance and understanding that they would be together now. But clearly a week of silence followed by a platonic and detached greeting when she finally came to visit Harry indicated otherwise.

He really needed to have his head checked.

And he truly needed a drink.

His lips curled with bitter irony as he entertained the thought of rounding up Ronald Weasley and taking the boy out for a long pub-crawl to drown both their sorrows.

The house was filled with the cool shadowy dimness of evening coming on. The silence suggested to him that Harry wasn't home, and for that Sirius was thankful. He climbed the staircase leading up to his bedroom, peeling off his leather jacket as he went.

As he kicked off his boots and flung his jacket onto the chair, Sirius realized with a sort of clinical curiosity that his heart hurt. It was like nothing he'd felt before. Obviously he'd suffered worse – he'd experienced real tragedies and true losses. And yet, in all fairness he supposed he'd never allowed himself to get this hung up on a witch before. Hell, he'd never been denied a witch he wanted before, either.

With a loud sigh, he ran his hands through his hair and sunk onto the large mahogany bed. He'd just stretched out to resume his position of staring at the same spot on the ceiling when a knock sounded on his door.

"Sirius? It's Harry."

Without bothering to sit up, Sirius waved his hand and the door swung open.

Harry stepped into the room and stood in silence for a long moment. Feeling all at once petulant, self-pitying, and obstinate, Sirius refused to even look at his godson, even though he could feel those painfully familiar green eyes boring into him in consternation.

Finally caving, Sirius growled impatiently, "What is it?"

"Sirius, are you in love with Hermione?" Harry asked in a calm yet somehow demanding tone.

The black-haired wizard leaned up on his elbows and eyed his best friend's son. Part of him wanted to say, 'What if I am?' but something about the look on Harry's face warned him that his sincerity and honesty were critical.

Sirius sat up completely and sighed. "I – I'm not sure, Harry. I think so," he answered softly.

"Well I suggest you _get_ sure," Harry snapped, surprising Sirius. "It's not my place to offer or withhold blessings for anyone's relationship, but things are enough of a mess right now as it is. She's already agreed that whatever you two do, that it will be kept quiet for the time being. But what I don't need is to have my other best friend's heart broken by someone close to me as well."

Sirius was gobsmacked. He blinked several times as Harry's words sunk in. _'She's already agreed that whatever you two do…' Is that what her visit was about – to discuss their feelings for each other with Harry?_ His heart leapt.

"Did she…" He paused and swallowed. "Is that why she was here earlier? What did she say? Where is she now?"

The hardness in his godson's eyes softened. "She left, Sirius – she went back to her place because I wanted to have a word with you first. I was expecting back you a bit earlier than this, though. I don't know if she's still at home now."

Sirius jumped up, overwhelmed with the need to go to her, to _his_ witch. "Shit – did you tell her to wait for me? I've been gone all fucking day!" He rushed to put his boots back on and glanced in the mirror before rudely pushing past Harry, who was now watching with a slightly amused expression.

~O~

Sirius had only been to Hermione's London flat once before, when she'd thrown a small dinner party in honor of his return. Because he had traveled by floo then, he had no idea of her Apparition point. Harry assured him that arriving by floo unannounced would probably be acceptable this time.

And so it was that he found himself standing on the hearth of a posh little sitting room that was darkening with the sunset.

"Hermione… love?" Sirius called out softly. It didn't seem as if anyone was home, but something in his senses alerted him to her presence. He called her name just a little louder, but getting no response he cast a _Homenum Revelio_, and discovered that she was in one of the rooms down the hallway, likely a bedroom.

Something familiar niggled in the back of his mind as he quietly made his way down the short dim hallway, not really certain why he was sneaking. When he approached the first open door however, his mouth went dry.

The warm dim light of sunset's last rays filtered in to the darkening room, painting a burnished tapestry of shadows and light across the lush but modern bedspread, softly illuminating the virginal figure laid out there like a fairy tale princess.

Silently he crept closer, his gaze traveling from the steady rise and fall of her perfect breasts, over the flawless exposed skin of collarbones, shoulders, and neck to her beautiful face. Her lips were slightly parted in that unintentional pout that was somehow incredibly innocent and hopelessly sexy at the same time. Her untamed chestnut curls were spread haphazardly over the pillow. A tiny crease pulled her brows together, and he froze as the indecent lashes shadowing her cheeks fluttered open.

"Sirius?" she asked softly, her voice sleepy and confused, but not afraid. So much trust from someone for whom he had such impure designs…

Sirius was riveted to the spot, his throat tight and his heart pounding as his cock stirred with the recollection of so many sleepless nights. The vision was so familiar to him, even though the little details were all wrong.

He blinked, feeling as if he was the one who'd been suddenly awoken as Hermione leaned up on her elbows, one of the black straps of her sundress slipping down on her shoulder.

"Hey," she said quietly as she cocked her head and held out her hand to him in invitation.

He couldn't recall his feet taking him to the side of her bed, or the mattress dipping under his weight as he climbed in and crawled over to her. But suddenly they were a feverish tangle of lips and heat and breaths and moans, desperate to finally feel each other, yet wanting to make every touch and pleasure last as long as possible.

Pulling back slightly, Sirius paused and looked down at Hermione. He needed to know this was real, and daylight was fading far too quickly. He reached around his leg for his wand and cast a _Lumos_ spell, just enough to fill her bedroom with a soft glow.

A quizzical smile played across her lips.

For once it was Sirius' turn to blush slightly. "I need to see you, love," he said in answer to her silent question, and added sheepishly, "I need to know this is real."

He slid a hand down her body, over her waist, until his fingers found the hem of her dress that had ridden up her thigh in their snogging session. He smirked as he noticed her eyes flutter slightly and heard her breath hitch, but her eyes never completely left his.

Hermione licked her lips nervously. "Sirius," she began, "I… I've never - "

She broke off in a sigh as his hand lightly caressed her bare skin. He leaned in and kissed her slowly and tenderly before pulling away. "…done this before?" he finished for her.

She grimaced slightly as her cheeks turned a lovely shade of pink. Sirius mentally kicked himself when she bit her lower lip shyly and shook her head. Hadn't he told her a week ago that he wasn't interested in just a casual shag? And yet here he was, his cock at full attention, sneaking into her bedroom and devouring the innocent little thing in the not-so-innocent little dress. Closing his eyes briefly, he took a deep breath and rolled onto his side, exhaling his self-disgust through his teeth.

"I – well, I almost did, once," Hermione explained quickly. "Only, Viktor's parents returned a day early from Turkey, and they caught us on the floor in front of their fireplace…" With every word, the pinkish hue of her cheeks darkened to red. "I'm still not entirely certain it's safe for me to set foot on Bulgarian soil," she muttered before continuing. "After that there's only ever been Ron, and with him it just never felt right. I suppose part of the reason I kept putting him off was because I knew if we ever did… do it, things would wind up much worse than they are now. And there just – really hasn't been any other… opportunity," she finished weakly, not quite meeting Sirius' eyes.

Sirius bit back a wholly inappropriate laugh at her story about getting caught. He wondered when that could have happened, and knew for certain the prim little bookworm must have been utterly mortified. Unable to keep his hands off of her completely, he traced his fingers over the white band of silk covering her stomach.

"Does this feel right, Hermione?" he asked softly. Despite his amusement, and regardless of how badly he wanted her, there was still an undercurrent of uncertainty. Suddenly this was nothing like his recurring dreams at all. It was real, alive, and there were hearts on the line and futures to consider. When the hell did he start caring about such things, he wondered?

Her soft brown eyes flicked to his, filled with tenderness and a heated hunger that belied her innocence. "This? This feels…" Her lips curled into that secret smile she only ever seem to give him. "Unreal," she answered with a soft, delighted laugh.

"We can wait… if you want," Sirius surprised himself by saying.

"What? No!" Hermione blurted out, then looked away. "I – I mean, unless you want to wait," she added bashfully.

Sirius shook his head incredulously and cupped her cheek, turning her face to him. "I've been waiting for months, Hermione," he whispered. "I just don't want to rush you…"

She frowned at him briefly before leaning up to kiss him, her mouth moving in a slow sensuous dance over his until her little tongue slid along his upper lip. He felt that familiar low heated growl uncurling from his chest as her fingers skimmed over the material of his thin tee shirt before slipping around the back of his neck to lightly fist his hair.

He resumed his original position, his knee fitting neatly between her legs as he straddled one of her thighs, and balanced his weight on one arm so the other hand could begin exploring the delectable young witch beneath him. She fit so perfectly against him, as if she was tailor made for him, body and soul. How could he have ever thought to resist her, even when she was still dating that ginger haired git?

~

Hermione felt almost dizzy, and wondered with some amusement if this was what swooning felt like. They had really hardly even touched each other, but Sirius' closeness alone had her feeling as if she might explode or pass out any minute now.

His hand was smoothing up and down her side in a languorous pattern as they each took turns breaking from their kisses to taste other parts. She honestly couldn't decide which was more arousing, the delicious rough-soft feel of his stubbled chin and lips rasping across her shoulder and nibbling at her neck, or the ragged breaths and low moans that came when she stole her own paths over his strong jaw, nipping at his earlobe, tracing a line along his throat with her tongue.

She smirked against his neck on one such passing when he dropped his head with a low whine just as she found the sweet spot below his jaw where his pulse throbbed against her lips. She might still be a virgin, but it wasn't for lack of interest, and she'd made a point to learn as much as she could for when her time came.

Growing impatient with their clothes, Hermione slid her hands back down over Sirius' broad, muscled shoulders and chest to tug at the bottom of his shirt. Getting the message, he pulled back, standing on his knees, and pulled it over his head, mussing his raven black hair more perfectly than a Muggle jeans ad model. She couldn't help the sigh that escaped her as her eyes took in the beautiful man poised above her. He made her mouth water, so much so that any of her previous shyness about wanting him had long flown out the window. She let her eyes drink in the sight of him, the faded and worn blue jeans that fit like a tight glove, the chiseled torso that most wizards half his age could only dream of achieving, the strong hard set of his jaw, his soft full mouth and perfect nose, and those eyes – hurricane grey sometimes, but right now they were almost charcoal coloured as they stared at her like she was dinner.

This was _hers_.

She watched as his eyes followed a similar path down her body, so heated she could almost feel the caress of his gaze as it traveled down to her breasts, then lower, lower still, to her legs which he nudged apart so that his other knee could fit between.

An unexpected wave of self-consciousness took her by surprise and she looked away nervously. Since leaving Hogwarts, and without the physical activity of being on the run or in battle, Hermione didn't have the built-in daily exercise that came with climbing endless staircases or running for her life. And while she wouldn't say she'd let herself go, she'd noticed how she'd filled out a bit in the past year or so. She wasn't naturally athletic like Ginny, who would probably always be toned and fit until she retired from Quidditch and started popping out children. Normally the slight softness of Hermione's curves didn't bother her – she was above those things and they weren't truly important. Not usually.

However, this _was_ Sirius Black hovering above her, and oh _Merlin_, what on earth could he see in her when he could have any witch he wanted, and likely several at the same time? What was she _thinking_?

"What are you thinking?" Sirius asked, echoing her thoughts out loud in a wry and amused tone.

Hermione felt her cheeks warm for the umpteenth time since she'd awoken to Sirius' presence in her bedroom. "N-nothing," she lied, her breath catching as his fingers trailed lazily along the outsides of her legs.

Sirius gave a skeptical hum in response, but seemed unconcerned.

"I remember what a gangly little slip of a girl you used to be," he said with a soft chuckle.

Hermione felt a dread-like mortification seeping in to her thoughts, but it was stunted by the path his hands were traveling - up the backs of her thighs now, the skirt of her dress riding further up, the cool air from the ceiling fan teasing each gradually exposed bit of flesh.

"I've had to hang on to that image of you ever since I got back, you know. It was the only way I could keep myself under control. Every time I saw you, all curves and grace - " He paused and swallowed so hard she could see his Adam's apple bob. "Do you have any idea what a beautiful woman you've become, Hermione Granger?" he asked thickly. "It's been so fucking hard to stay away, to keep my hands off of you, much less my eyes… I don't know what I've done to deserve this, but I promise you, love – I'll do everything I can to please you in every way. And not just tonight."

His words went through her like firewhiskey as a liquid heat traveled down her spine and spread through her limbs. She needed to touch him, to feel him, to taste him, and suddenly at a loss for speech, all she could do was reach for the waistband of his jeans and pull him to her.

His one hand continued to tease its way along her thigh as he balanced his weight on the other and bent down to kiss her again. Hermione felt a deep sense of satisfaction when he groaned against her lips as she ran her hands over his bare chest, her thumbs grazing over his nipples. Her satisfaction was drowned out by desire however, as his hand crept higher and higher, pushing her dress up above her legs, until he froze and pulled back slightly, his hand stopping on her bare hip, then feeling around briefly.

"Hermione Jean Granger," Sirius murmured teasingly. "No knickers? Naughty little witch!" He bit her lip gently.

"Yes, well," she panted distractedly as his fingers danced over her skin. "You ruined them last time…" She couldn't help but move against him. He was so close and she was aching for his touch…

"Mmm, yes I know," he agreed softly. "I suppose I shouldn't be surprised then – ever the practical girl, aren't you?"

Hermione had no response. He gave her bottom an affectionate squeeze before slowly slipping his hand out from under her dress, his fingers tracing a suggestive path mere centimeters from her swollen apex. She gave an involuntary whimper that earned her a tender kiss from the dark-haired wizard.

"Soon, my love," he whispered into her ear while he smoothed his hand up over her hip and her waist, tracing a soft caress along the side of her breast, fingers barely touching her skin as they ran along the edge of her neckline to the one strap that had slipped off her shoulder. His mouth trailed down her neck, lips and tongue nuzzling along her shoulder to the other strap of her dress, easing it down her arm with his teeth.

It was only enough to grant him a more teasing amount of access, and the feeling of Sirius' lips and fingers, just out of reach of her hardened peaks, elicited a frustrated gasp from Hermione. She arched into him, plunging a hand into his hair while the other gripped his muscled forearm. She was rewarded with his mouth teasing her tight nipples through the fabric of her dress, leaving a moist imprint that cooled with the soft breeze on first one, then the other.

He looked up at her, his grey eyes dark but challenging. "It won't go down any further on its own, pet," he said regarding her dress.

Hermione had had enough of this. In one swift movement, she reached around and stole Sirius' wand from its leather thigh holster, quickly disrobing them both.

The abrupt feel of his strong, hairy legs between hers, his bare hip beneath her hand, and oh gods - _that_, hard and heavy and bumping against her mound so very close to where she needed it most, caused a hard gasp to come from both Hermione and Sirius.

~

Something broke inside Sirius, and any hesitation he had was forgotten with their sudden lack of clothing. She was so beautiful and luscious, the perfect amount of softness to her curves, her flawless skin more silky than the dress that had been impeding him. And she _smelled_ \- oh gods, he could smell the soft sweet tang of her arousal, blending in with that subtle jasmine perfume she wore, and the scent of her went right to his head and down to his crotch.

"Fuck, Hermione," he cursed softly. Did she even know what she'd just done? A gut-deep and desperate want and need surged in him, and he practically dove onto her, ravaging her body with his hands and mouth. The little mewls and sighs of pleasure that came from the young witch in his arms only added more fuel to the blaze until Sirius' senses were completely filled with the very thing he had been yearning for ever since he'd laid eyes on the adult version of that swotty little bookworm who'd saved his life.

He wanted to plunge into her, feel her tightness surrounding him and milking him, hear her cry out his name in pleasure. As much as his cock was aching for it, Sirius knew he had to slow down if he was going to ensure her pleasure. With a tender but deep kiss to her sweetly bruised lips, he lifted himself up to look into her soft brown eyes. Anything he might have thought to say was lost in the heat of her gaze and the feel of her hands as they slipped from around his neck over his shoulders and down his chest.

All he could do for the moment was _feel_, until suddenly her small hand found him. Her touch was tentative at first, until her achingly soft fingers wrapped themselves around his hardness and began stroking. Sirius's eyes closed and his head dropped as a groan rumbled through him and he rocked against her hand. It was truly almost too much.

"Hermione," he finally managed to gasp as he felt himself reaching an un-returnable point. "Stop…" He forced his hips away from her, his cock slipping from her grasp and bobbing slightly.

When he opened his eyes, her expression was cautious, reminding him that despite her rather skilled actions so far, she was still new to the game. He couldn't help the wicked grin that crept over his face as he thought of all the things he would get to show her.

"Not just yet, love," he said, taking her hands and pressing them into the mattress above her shoulders. He felt her struggle just barely against his grip, as if testing, and noticed her cheeks pinken and her eyes flutter shut for a moment. _Interesting,_ he thought, making note of that for later.

He dipped his head down to her neck, nibbling his way up to her ear. "Oh, the things I'm going to do to you, sweet one," he whispered before releasing her wrists and making his way down her body, paying special attention to those two luscious mounds and their rosy pink tips.

~

This.

_This_ was what had been missing all along, what even Viktor couldn't quite manage to bring to the experience, Hermione thought suddenly as she gave herself over to the things Sirius was doing to her body. She writhed beneath his touch and arched into him again when his mouth found one breast, and then the other, sucking and biting so perfectly she thought she might come from just that.

But no – he was sliding further down now, his lips trailing artfully over her stomach, his tongue teasing her belly button and making her giggle despite the fact that her heartbeat was now racing because he was clearly going _there_…

"Sirius," she said, leaning up on her elbows. "You don't have to…"

He looked up at her abruptly with an eyebrow raised. "'Have to'?" he repeated, then chuckled and shook his head. "Just lay back, love," he commanded.

Hermione did as told, but couldn't relax. She had never made it quite this far with Viktor and while it was always something she'd fantasized about, she really wasn't sure what to expect, and she couldn't imagine that it would be all that pleasant for him and yet-

She gasped sharply at the sudden feel of his mouth – just a kiss, really, against the outside of her most intimate place. His fingers were there too, petting her lovingly as if trying to sooth a skittish animal.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this, angel," Sirius said huskily.

She looked down to see the extremely erotic sight of the handsome wizard's face between her legs, his eyes dark and heated. "You make my mouth water, Hermione," he continued. "Don't ever think this is a 'have to', understand?"

Hermione could only nod. When his mouth touched her again, her head fell back on the pillow with a loud exhale. When his tongue slipped into her wetness in one slow, experimental stroke, however, she let out a surprised cry, then promptly melted against him as his fingers gently spread her open to _more_ \- more of Sirius' mouth, his lips and tongue doing things to her senses that were making her dizzy.

"Ohhh, Sirius…" she moaned, her eyes falling shut. It was _wonderful_. It was like nothing she'd ever imagined, warm and wet, so wet, and oh _gods_ he knew just where to – and she suddenly realized that _he_ was moaning too, the kind of moan she sometimes made when she was eating her favourite dessert.

It didn't take much for her to feel the familiar spiraling tension building inside of her. Only this time it was far bigger and wilder than any kind of pleasure she'd felt at her own hands. Just as she was certain she was reaching the brink of an amazing climax, Sirius' motions slowed to a deliberate pace – not enough to pull her back, but just enough to hold her in place as he gently slid a finger into her.

"Please," she keened, pushing against him, trying to tell him with her body, _yes – that -**more**_, because she was certain she was beyond intelligible verbal communication at this point.

"Oh, yes…" she hissed feverishly as he inserted a second finger, slowly pushing further in, sliding back out, his mouth now sucking at her clit at an agonizingly lazy pace.

Hermione plunged a frustrated hand into Sirius' hair, struggling with her shyness and the frantic urge to grind herself against him for relief. He seemed to take the hint, _thank gods,_ and picked up the pace, fucking her with his fingers while his mouth worked the rest of her.

"Oh _fuck_ \- sweet Merlin," Hermione gritted desperately as she felt his fingers curl just slightly inside of her, creating a sensation that was wholly unique to her. She'd read about this – "Again!" she cried, her assertiveness and language surprising both of them as he chuckled against her.

Sirius complied, and in a few more short strokes of his fingers and tongue, Hermione came completely undone, bucking against him violently as the deepest rush of ecstasy she'd ever experienced swept through her entire body.

When she finally started to drift back down, she was filled with a giddiness that bubbled out of her in a stream of silent laughter. Sirius raised up, but before he could even ask, she rolled over onto her side and curled up into herself, covering her face briefly.

"Hermione… love?" he asked in a concerned voice, touching her shoulder softly. This only made her laugh harder. Oh _heavens_ she was in the worst sort of trouble, because she knew she'd never, ever be the same after _this_.

Finally he gave her a firm tug and forced her to roll over and face him, pulling her hands down from her face. His grey eyes went from concerned, to confused, to amused in the course of a few seconds.

"Well I can't say I've ever caused _that_ kind of reaction before," he said dryly, though the corners of his mouth quirked as he fought back a grin.

"I – I'm sorry, Sirius," Hermione gasped as she tried to catch her breath. "I don't… why… suppose it… just…" she shook her head hopelessly and gave an exhilarated exhale. "Wow," was all she could manage.

"Wow, indeed," Sirius nodded thoughtfully. "Looks like I've managed to render the great Hermione Brainger incoherent. Think there should be some kind of award for that, yeah?"

She glared playfully before tackling him, causing him to roll over onto his back with a smug bark of laughter. Gods, how she loved the sound of his laugh…

"Mmm, definitely an award," Hermione muttered against Sirius' neck as her hands drifted down over his body.

Even as she was still winding down, the salty taste of his skin and the sound of his ragged breaths and helpless moans sent a fresh wave of heat through her senses as she realized the power she had over him, that he wanted her, _needed_ her as much as she did him.

~

Sirius Black had had a reasonable number of witches in his time, but none of them had been like this. Whether it was because she was untouched, fresh and new to the whole experience of lovemaking, or whether it was simply _her_, he couldn't say. But every touch, sound, and taste of the lovely young woman who was currently nibbling and licking her way down his body was like pure, sweet, utterly addictive heaven. Being with her was more than a physical experience, and he already knew that he was far more involved than he'd ever intended to be. Harry had it all wrong, and while Sirius had no intention of there being any broken hearts in this scenario, the only thing he knew for certain was that if there was, it wouldn't be at his hands.

He was nearly hyperventilating now as her long dark curls brushed his thighs. _I really should stop her_, he thought weakly, but he was rendered incapable by the tentative tongue that swiped across the head of his cock. Lips soon followed, imperfect and unsure but _oh, sweet Morgana,_ it was enough to nearly make him lose control right there.

"Hermione… princess…" Sirius finally managed to gasp, "you have to stop, love." He wrapped his hand into that mane of glorious curls and gently guided her away.

He couldn't help but smile at the pout on her face.

"That's hardly fair," she said petulantly.

Sirius pulled her up to him and rolled them over, grinning at her little whimper as his cock nestled itself between her legs. "Yes, well," he answered between kisses, "it's also hardly fair that you can keep going immediately after _that_…" He slipped his hand between them, sliding his finger between her slick folds to make his point, and took great delight in the gasping little whimpers that came from her lips.

"Sirius…" Hermione said almost shyly as she moved against the slow rhythm of his touch.

"Yes, love?" he asked, entranced by the flustered look on her face.

"I – I'm ready," she answered, adding in a whisper, "I need you."

He took a deep breath to steady himself before positioning the tip of his hard cock at her entrance. Instinctively, Hermione wrapped her legs around him, her face growing flush with impatience, panting desperately and wriggling against him as he paused just outside of her slick wet heat. He leaned in to taste her gorgeous lips again, but made no move forward with the rest of his body.

"Hermione, look at me," he whispered, not daring to close his eyes this time as he pushed ever so slowly into her tightness.

She was so beautiful, her lips parting and her eyes losing focus, lashes fluttering slightly, but she did not look away as he continued to inch himself into her velvety sheath. There was no maidenhead, but she was still almost impossibly tight. Truthfully, his painstakingly slow movements were as much for him as they were for her, lest he unload himself right there. It had been months since he'd been with anyone, and nothing in his morning wanks could have prepared him for this.

When he was finally completely buried in her warmth, Sirius exhaled a long breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. He kissed her again, and she met his lips hungrily, her slightly trembling fingers moving from where they'd been clutching his arms to his shoulders and neck.

"You feel so amazing, my love. _You_ are so amazing," he murmured as he planted tiny, feverish kisses over her cheeks, eyes, forehead, back down to her mouth and neck.

He wanted so badly to stroke his cock along her tight wet passage but he knew she needed a moment to adjust. Instead, he ran his fingers lovingly over her body and continued kissing his way tenderly down her neck and back up again, trying his best to communicate through touches and kisses just how soul-wrenchingly beautiful this was to him.

"Sirius?" Hermione asked softly after a time, as she moved against him slightly.

"Are you alright?" he asked between kisses, still keeping a white-knuckled grip on his restraint, even as she wiggled against him again.

"Well yes, but… Please…" she answered in a small, frustrated voice.

Sirius looked down at her and, seeing his own need and arousal reflected back at him from those coffee brown eyes, he gritted his teeth and carefully began to move. He'd never been anyone's first time before, and the raw intimacy of attending to her comfort in that regard, both emotional and physical, was a heady yet completely new experience for him.

"Gods, woman," he breathed as he slowly stroked her, "you feel so good – so fucking wet and tight…"

Hermione's eyes fell shut and a soft moan passed her lips as they found their rhythm. Suddenly her hands were all over him and a soft stream of barely coherent words and gasps spilled from her as they sped up. He couldn't help the warm smugness he felt at the look of sheer pleasure on her face.

Feeling his control beginning to slip, Sirius slid his hand between them, finding her sweet little bud again with his thumb. Her eyes flew open with a sharp inhale and she clutched at his shoulders.

"Don't stop!" she whispered frantically. "Oh gods, Sirius… harder - "

He felt her muscles begin to flutter around his hardness as her nails dug into his arms, and as she cried out, her cunt suddenly clamping around him, he felt the last of his self-restraint fail. With a growl, he drove himself into her, finally letting himself take his own completion, her cries and encouraging murmurs drowned out by her name bellowed from his own lips as he spilled his release.

~O~

The soft, warm female body in his arms shifted and Sirius smiled, nuzzling his face into the cloud of unruly curls. After having calmed down, he'd cleaned them both up and pulled the soft down comforter over their bodies. Hermione had fallen asleep almost immediately, her hands curled possessively over his chest and her head resting against his shoulder. She fit so perfectly there, as if she were made for him.

"Sirius?" she said quietly.

"Yes, princess?"

He could feel her smile against his chest. The first time he'd called her that was in a not very nice way, during one of their numerous pointless spats, many of them instigated by him, but likely just as many by her as they both attempted to hide their feelings.

She raised her head to look at him. "You do know I never meant most of those things I said - "

"Of course not, love."

"-except of course the bits about you being an arrogant prat," she finished with a grin.

He responded with a soft poke to her side, causing her to squirm. Her expression grew serious, however. "Did you mean what you said, in your room last week?"

Sirius looked at her incredulously. "I'd never say it if I didn't mean it, Hermione. And I sure as hell wouldn't lay a finger on you if I didn't mean it."

She nodded thoughtfully. "I just – I never really gave you a straight answer. I mean, you were still gone by the time I finished talking to Harry, and then you just showed up here, and…" She drifted off and looked at him sheepishly. "What I mean to say is yes."

"Yes?" Sirius repeated amusedly.

She nodded again. "If you'll have me. It's not going to be easy – even if the others come around to accept it. I _am_ still a swotty know-it-all, and I really do hate your smoking habit, and I'm sure we'll still have arguments, because Merlin knows I can be a bit nitpicky, and - "

Before she could continue, Sirius cut her off with a long, possessive kiss. He didn't care about any of those things, and he was looking forward to proving that to her. Yes, she was his godson's best friend. But Harry had already accepted it, and he didn't care about the others. Clearly she wasn't too young or 'pure' for him, either. She _was_ taken, but now only by him, and that was the important part. All that mattered now was that Hermione Granger was his.


End file.
